


all the things you left behind

by dilkirani



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brain Injury, F/M, Tumblr Prompt, high school best friends/sweethearts au, meeting again as adults, one's a waiter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilkirani/pseuds/dilkirani
Summary: Based on a tumblr prompt: old high school sweethearts that unexpectedly meet in a restaurant years later with one of them as a waiter/waitress AU.Fitz and Jemma were best friends and high school sweethearts until she moved to the US for college and he stayed behind. After a car accident leaves Fitz with brain damage, he cuts off contact with almost everyone. Until one day, Jemma shows back up in his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruthedotcom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthedotcom/gifts).



> Written for the lovely ruthedotcom's birthday! This is, of course, very belated. I hope you enjoy it anyway!  
> Title sort of from the chvrches song "high enough to carry you over."

“ _Fitz_? Leo Fitz?”

Fitz blushes furiously, almost dropping his notepad to the ground. Of _all_ the people in the world, of course she has to appear back in his life before he’s had any chance to prepare. This isn't even supposed to be his shift; he's covering as a favor to Hunter. Fitz is going to make Hunter’s life miserable, as soon as manages to respond. Or move. Or breathe.

“Um...yep, yeah, er, hi, Je-Jemma. Nice to… yeah.” _Perfect_. Nice reintroduction to his high school best friend and sweetheart after years of minimal contact.

Jemma seems unconcerned, smiling brightly in a way that is surely meant to be disarming but only causes more anxiety to bubble up in Fitz’s lungs. How was it possible that she’d gotten even more beautiful with age?

“I didn’t know you worked here,” she says. “It’s a lovely cafe.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not-not like that,” he snaps, realizing he’s being unnecessarily harsh but unable to stop himself. Brilliant, wonderful Jemma Simmons, who was currently making breakthrough after scientific breakthrough and appearing on all sorts of “30 People Under 30 to Watch!” lists while he could barely understand his own Ph.D. dissertation.

“Not like what?” she asks, eyes wide and looking suddenly at sea.

“I know I’m j-just a waiter but that doesn’t mean, it doesn’t mean I’m-I’m _useless_.”

“Fitz!” Jemma gasps, shaking her head quickly. “I didn’t mean that _at all_. I didn’t say that! I was just surprised to see you here. Can we start over? Please?” She smiles up at him hesitantly before extending her hand towards him. “I’m Jemma Simmons, biochemist.”

His mouth quirks up without his permission, lured in as he’s always been by her honey eyes. “Leopold Fitz. Waiter and am-amateur engineer.”

He holds her hand for a second too long and feels, somehow, on the verge of tears. In another universe, he thinks he and Jemma might have worked side by side in a lab somewhere. Combined, they’d always been twice as smart. But she’d gone to university in America while he’d stayed behind to care for his mother during her months of chemotherapy treatments. They talked on the phone daily, but he never had enough money to visit and her semester breaks were always spent interning or winning prestigious fellowships.

He’d agreed to a 'break' because her arguments were sound: what kind of relationship could be sustained when you only saw the other person every couple of years? They were too young to be in a relationship. They should meet other people. Really, they should be concentrating on their education first. _Anyway_ , after they’d both settled down with real jobs maybe then…?

But he’d never connected with another person the way he’d connected with Jemma. And after his accident, he didn’t connect with anyone at all.

“Are you wait-waiting for someone?” he finally asks, gesturing to the empty seat across from her. For the first time in years, he’s painfully aware of his stutter, which had improved drastically after his rehab but never completely gone away. He can tell Jemma is pretending not to notice, but all these years later he can still read her microexpressions, the way her feelings had always been mapped out across her face.

“Oh, yes, Daisy! She’s back in town as well so I wanted to catch up. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

He stares at her for a moment. “I can’t. I’m working. This is my _job_.”

“Oh right, I know. I didn’t mean… of course you can’t. I’m sorry.” She looks so flustered that Fitz wants to offer something to comfort her but he just isn’t able.

“I’ll let you look-look over the menu until Daisy gets here, yeah?” He walks off without waiting for her response.

He spends the rest of his shift avoiding Jemma’s sad eyes and answering Daisy’s myriad questions monosyllabically. He misses Daisy too, if he’s being honest. She’d been one of his closest friends before his accident, but he’d lashed out one too many times at her in frustration after. He’d overheard her telling a mutual friend that sometimes he seemed like the old Fitz again, and sometimes…

But he’d known that the old Fitz was well and truly gone, and the new one didn’t deserve or need his friends to stick around out of pity.

At any rate, he had been surprised at how easy it was to cut ties with friends when they’d scattered all over the globe.

He feels an odd mixture of utter relief and incurable sadness when Jemma and Daisy finish up their meals and ask for the bill. He brings it to them reluctantly, as if this meal were his one chance at keeping them in his life. As if, really, he had any chances left.

“Oh, I don’t need change,” Jemma says with a tight smile and Fitz frowns, doing the simple math almost as quickly as he could in primary school.

“That’s a 76.8% tip,” he replies, holding the notes back towards her. Daisy chews on her lip and Fitz can sense the warning she’s desperately throwing at Jemma.

“Well, the service was quite excellent. I never even had to ask for more water.”

“I’m not a ch-charity case,” he hisses under his breath. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity!” Jemma pleads, and he’s startled at the fierceness in her eyes. “We’re friends! I was just trying to be nice.”

“We’re not _friends_ , Jemma,” he says, and immediately realizes he’s gone too far. She blinks rapidly, grabs her purse, and walks off without another word.

Daisy gulps down the remainder of her beer. “Come on, Fitz, don’t be like that. She’s your best friend.”

“We’re not friends,” he repeats, exasperated. He doesn’t understand why people treat his relationship with Jemma like some unquestionable law of physics instead of what it really is—a high school friendship that faded out, as these things inevitably do. “We haven’t talked in ye-years!”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Daisy slips her jacket on slowly and puts a hand gently on Fitz’s shoulder.

“I miss you, Fitz,” she says, before she leaves. “Jemma misses you. But I’m not gonna be your punching bag. I wish you missed us, though.”

 _I do miss you_ , is what Fitz wants to say. But the right words haven’t managed to escape his lips in years.

++

Fitz draws the curtains and slides back into bed. Today is a bad migraine day, and even the gray overcast sky is too bright for his eyes.

He’s already called in sick to work, cancelled his tutoring session, and emailed his professor to turn in his assignment for today’s class. He sighs. Sometimes he thinks he’s actually making strides in his life—even though the classes he’s taking he’d already passed at sixteen. But then there are days like this when he can’t even leave his bed, and he’s forced to take stock of who he really is: a 28-year-old who had to go on disability and leave his dream job, who only ever interacted with his mum and his roommate, Hunter.

This is what happens when the only thing you ever loved about yourself is stolen from you.

He picks up his cellphone from the nightstand, squinting in pain at the bright screen. His fingers find her contact information of their own accord, even though he hasn’t called or messaged her in ages.

[Fitz]: Just wanted to say sorry about the other day. Wasn’t feeling well, shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It was nice to see you again.

He hits send before he can second-guess himself and closes his eyes, choking down the nausea. He barely has time to wonder if she’ll reply before his phone buzzes in his hand.

[Jemma:] That’s perfectly okay, I understand.

[Jemma:] I didn’t get a chance to mention it, but I’m actually back in town for a job interview. I’ll be here through the end of the month, if I don’t get the job. Permanently, if I do.

[Jemma:] Would you be interested in getting dinner or drinks tonight? It’d be nice to catch up.

It takes everything out of him to read the texts without being sick. He manages to tap out a reply before shakily grabbing his water and downing some more medicine.

[Fitz:] can’t tonight. sick.

[Jemma:] Oh, okay then. Hope you feel better.

He knows she thinks he’s blowing her off so he musters all his strength to send one more, feeling himself losing the fight against the building pressure on his brain.

[Fitz:] no really bad migraine get them from the accident maybe tomorrow

With a groan he drops his phone to the floor, where it thuds softly against the carpet. Tears leak from his eyes and he tries to breathe slowly through the pain.

When he wakes up hours later, she hasn’t responded.

++

Thursday is his day off from everything and he’s immensely relieved that all signs of yesterday’s migraine are gone. He’s just started toasting some bread for breakfast when his phone vibrates on the table.

[Jemma:] I hope you’re feeling better! Would you want to meet me for breakfast? I’m actually quite nervous for this interview, thought seeing a friendly face beforehand would help.

Fitz pauses, looking dumbly from the bread on his plate to his pajamas, running his fingers through his overgrown curls.

[Fitz:] I’m in. Lola’s?

[Jemma:] Perfect. See you in thirty?

With a muffled curse, he stuffs the toast into his mouth and rushes to take a shower.

++

Fitz had spent more time than he cared to admit picking out an outfit. The dark jeans, button-up, and cardigan he’d chosen seemed the optimal blend of ‘not trying too hard’ and ‘nice, together Adult Human.’ But as soon as he spots Jemma at a table in the far corner, he knows he should never have bothered.

She’s wearing what is obviously her interview attire—a fitted pantsuit with a patterned blouse. She looks so professional he can hardly believe this is the same woman who once swayed drunkenly against him at a party and whispered things in his ear that made him blush.

He shakes his head quickly. She’s not anymore that same girl as he is the genius who’d had ten patents to his name by the age of nineteen.

Or, the boy who’d known a decade ago the perfect recipe for a perfect life: Jemma and science, in that order.

He’s the man who’d known the perfect recipe for a perfect life and lost it all anyway.

The thing about getting older, he’s discovered, is that eventually all of the little hurts and disappointments and regrets coalesce into one huge sorrow where your heart should be, and living with that burden, really living and moving on and _trying_ despite everything is the only victory to be won.

So this is what he does: he sits down across from her and smiles genuinely, and he does not confess his love for her, he does not tell her he still dreams about her, he does not tell her that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to work for Stark Industries again, and he definitely does not tell her that most days the weight of all he’s lost seems impossibly heavy.

Instead, he says, “Tell me about th-this interview.”

++

“Not really sure why you’re ner-nervous. Sounds like Maria’s been recruiting you. _Maria Hill_! No way you’re not get-getting the job.”

Jemma nods absentmindedly, pouring herself more tea and then pouring Fitz some as well without having to ask.

“I just want it _so badly_ , you know?”

He smiles. “Yeah, ‘course. You’ve wanted to do research with SHIELD since we were kids.”

“Not only that, though. I just… I miss it here. I’ve learned so much and been really lucky with school and jobs, but I’d like to be closer to home. My parents are getting older, you know, and my sister’s married and already talking about having kids. And I miss my friends. I miss… you.” She exhales sharply when she looks at him, as if unsure how he’ll react.

“I uh… miss you too,” he admits, surprised at how little it costs him to say this out loud and how much of a reward her smile has always been.

“Daisy’s moving back too, you know. It feels like this is the time, getting everyone all back together. Except now we have more money and we can travel and do all those things we talked about doing when we were children.”

She looks so happy, smiling up at him as if nothing’s changed since they whispered these dreams to each other the night of graduation. He still remembers the feel of her hands against his face, her lips pressed against his forehead, his cheek, his mouth. Whispering to his heart that she would come back for him. In that moment, he had thought she could save him from anything.

Fitz knows he no longer fits into her vision of the future but he can’t disappoint her before the interview, not when making her happy is almost effortless.

“Traveling sounds good,” he says. “Maybe Peru? I would love to see a cap-capuchin in the wild.”

++

“ _Fitz!”_ she shrieks, and he has to hold his phone slightly away from his ear against her loud enthusiasm. “They’ve offered me the job!”

“ _Of course_ they have, they’re not bloody idiots! But congratulations, Jemma. I’m real-really happy for you.”

“I’m so excited! Will you come out with me tonight? Daisy and Bobbi are coming… maybe Trip and one of his friends too. You can invite your roommate—Hunter, right?—if you’d like. Please, please, _please_?”

Fitz swallows uncomfortably. He hadn’t made plans to hang out socially with their high school group in ages, but he’d also never been able to resist Jemma’s pleading. “Yeah, sure,” he acquiesces.

He regrets it almost immediately, sitting around his old group of friends as if nothing had changed except everything has changed. They are still so delicate around him, like he'll break at any moment. He’d hoped to have Hunter as a buffer, but as soon as Hunter saw Bobbi, that dream died.

“Hey, man,” Trip’s friend Mack says, sliding a fresh beer over to him. “I had some questions I wanted to ask you.”

Fitz looks around blankly in confusion, before meeting Mack’s eyes again. “Uh, me?”

“Yeah, you’re an engineer, right?”

Fitz freezes, feeling slightly clammy and wondering if the others are listening in to his conversation. “Not really. I mean, I was but I do-don’t… I’m in school at the moment.”

Mack frowns. “But you’re Leopold Fitz, right? You’ve been tutoring students over at King’s College in physics and engineering, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, part-time. How’d you know about th-that?”

Mack slaps his back and Fitz winces. “My younger brother goes there. Ruben. He said all the students want your help, that you explain things better than the professors. Look, I wanted to ask you a favor. Ruben’s a good kid, he just… he’s gone through some things. Right now he’s struggling, but I know he could be really successful. He just needs some help. What’s your rate? I can double it.”

Fitz blanches, noticing the others looking at them curiously. “That-that’s not necessary. I don’t really have a r-rate. Just what people want to give me. But I don’t think I’m that good, honestly. I wouldn’t want to uh… let you down.”

Mack shakes his head incredulously. “Fitz, man, you know what those kids call you? _Turbo_!”

Fitz snorts. “Turbo? Why?”

Mack pauses to consider this for the first time. “I don’t know, I guess because you turbocharge their grades or something?”

Fitz actually laughs out loud at that and Mack grins back. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. Send me his number.”

“Great!” Mack pulls his phone out and scrolls to Ruben’s contact information. “Hey, you want another beer?”

Fitz stares at his current one, still three-quarters full. “Uh…”

“Finish that and I’ll buy you another one. Seriously, I owe you, man.” Mack jumps up before Fitz can respond, ordering another round for the table.

When Fitz glances up, still unsure of what just happened, he sees Jemma smiling toothily at him and a flush burns its way up the back of his neck. He’s suddenly grateful for the dim lights and the smooth chatter of his friends.

He leans back against the wall, sipping at his beer and feeling, for the first time in ages, like maybe he could belong with people again after all.

++

Weeks pass, and Fitz finds himself spending most of his free time with Jemma, as if they’re in some alternate universe where nothing changed after high school.

The weight of everything they haven’t acknowledged pushes down on them both, threatening to suffocate him. But Fitz hates change, and he’s not going to fight against the reset he’s always wanted, even if it is temporary.

“I want to tell you something,” he says one day, when they’re lounging on his couch marathoning _Doctor Who_.

“What is it?” she asks, turning to face him fully and looking as if nothing in the world could be more important than this conversation.

“I’ve uh… been thinking. It sounds dumb, I guess, but I’m not sure if I can, if I’ll be able to work for St-Stark again. I’m not even sure if that’s what I want anymore.”

Jemma tilts her head, considering. “That doesn’t sound dumb. Have you thought about what you might like to do?”

Fitz fidgets, twisting his fingers into his jumper and hating how her approval still means everything to him. “I’ve been thinking about… maybe-maybe trying for teaching.”

He can’t meet her eyes, so she leans over and puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Fitz, I think that’s an absolutely _wonderful_ idea.”

“Really?” he scoffs. “You don’t think it’s like giv-giving up? ‘Those who can’t do, teach’ and all that rubbish?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Of course not. You know as well as I do that one has to truly understand the material to be an effective teacher. We were probably the most brilliant students to go through our schools, but where would we have been without some amazing teachers? I always thought you’d be a good one, actually.”

“You did? Why?”

Jemma smiles at him. “Didn’t you ever notice none of our peers came to me for help unless they had to? They always asked you. I just had such a hard time breaking abstract concepts down for them, but you managed it.”

Fitz is alarmed to find tears pricking his eyes, and he pushes his palms against his face, attempting to slow his breathing.

“Fitz?” Jemma asks in concern, trying to pry his hands from his face. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “I’m-I’m _excited_ about this. I finally feel like...like I have a goal again. Something I want. But it’s also not-not what I’d imagined my life would be like.”

Jemma hugs him then, and he’s frozen for a moment, holding himself together because there’s a very real possibility he could just let go and fall apart in her arms.

“I know you think I don’t understand,” she says softly against his shoulder. “And in a lot of ways I don’t. I don’t know what it’s like going through what you’ve been through. But sometimes I feel the same way. My life isn’t how I planned it. I thought we would go to university together and travel the world together and maybe even be—” She cuts herself off with a sigh. “The point is, it’s a normal feeling. It’s okay. But I’m so proud of your accomplishments, and I’m excited for you to try teaching. I really do think you’ll love it.”

Fitz nods against her, inhaling the scent that’s different from when they were in school together but with an underlying aroma of the only home he’s ever known.

He lets her cradle him, and the soft glide of her fingers through his hair is so pure it hurts.

++

Jemma slides onto a barstool and waits for Fitz to finish cleaning off a nearby table. She’s taken to coming in after she’s finished up at the lab and chatting with him or reading if he’s busy until he gets off work.

“You know,” she says, popping a bite of scone into her mouth, “I’m already depressed about the thought of you not working here forever.”

“Why?” he asks, leaning against the counter, eyes flitting around to make sure no one else needs anything.

“Do you know how much money I’ve saved since you’ve been sneaking me free pastries? I’m accustomed to a certain lifestyle now. I just don’t know how I’ll survive.”

Fitz laughs, grabbing her glass to refill it with water. He sets it back down in front of her and places a hand over his heart, staring at her solemnly. “I promise to bring you pastries at least once a week for as long as you still live here, okay?”

Jemma grins, sticking her hand out and shaking his firmly. “Deal,” she says, and holds on for a second too long.

Fitz smiles and jerks his head to the side, indicating he needs to check on a customer. He shakes his head as he leaves to clear it. Spending so much time with Jemma after their long separation has become effortless in a way he’d never thought possible. But there were moments where he felt like she was opening up the possibility for more.

 _No,_ he thinks, _you’re being silly and you’re gonna get your heart broken all over again_.

He glances over and she smiles back at him and he knows it’s too late anyway.

++

“Do you ever think we made a mistake, when we decided to take a break?” Jemma is stretched out along the blanket, staring resolutely at the stars. Pinpricks of starlight dot her pale face, luminous from a past so far away. He wonders if their relationship is just that, dying light, a mere reflection of their past.

Fitz doesn’t know how to respond. _Yes_ , _of course_. Because he might have been just a child, but he’d been irrevocably in love with her. Couldn’t that have been enough? _No, you were right all along._ Because Jemma Simmons was always destined for great things and he would have only held her back.

“Maybe,” is what he finally settles on.

She snorts and he can almost sense her rolling her eyes. “I should have expected you’d pick the safe answer.”

He shrugs and the silence drags on, not unpleasantly.

“Why did you stop returning my calls?” she finally asks, and he knows it’s what she’s been building towards ever since running into him at the restaurant all those months ago. “I was so worried. I know we weren’t talking all that much by that point but you’d never ignored me. I got so desperate I called your mum, and she told me about your car accident. Did you know I almost booked a ticket back home right then?”

“No,” he says.

“Well, I did. But your mum said it wasn’t a good idea at the moment. She said she’d tell you to call me, but you never did.”

“Yeah, she told me you c-called. Not the part about the plane ticket, but that-that I should call you.”

“But you didn’t.” She doesn’t sound accusatory, just weary and adrift.

Fitz massages his left palm with his right thumb, pressing down along the muscles almost unconsciously. “I thought it was for the best,” he says. “A cl-clean break.”

“But why?” she asks, sitting up and turning towards him, and he can see water shimmering in her eyes. _After all this time,_ he thinks, _how can you not know that you’re the best thing this universe has ever created?_

“Jemma,” he sighs. Her name tastes like smooth gelato on his tongue and he can’t believe he’d ever forgotten that.

She’s crying before he even realizes what’s happening.

“This is all my fault,” she sobs while Fitz gapes at her, irresolute. He’s only ever wanted Jemma, in his past, present, and future. But loving Jemma is loving the stars—when he finally reaches her, she’ll be long gone.

“No,” he replies, finally finding his voice. “Jemma, of course it’s not. What are you t-talking about?”

“I knew I should have come to see you after your accident. But your mum said things weren’t great for you and you never answered my calls or texts. And then Daisy said… she said you were so upset and angry and didn’t want to see any of us. But _Fitz,_ you’re my best friend. I should have been here and I know I ruined everything. Please tell me how to fix this.” She launches herself into his arms then, and he nearly falls over. He can feel tears soaking through his shirt.

“No, no. It was my fault. I thought it would be best just to—just to let each other go.” He wonders if she can feel the weight of everything he’s not saying and in the end decides there’s not much left to lose. “I wasn’t good enough for you be-before the accident. How could I be after?”

He feels more than hears her breath catch and her fingers clench at his shirt. “What?” she whispers. “What does that mean?”

Fitz stops himself from running a hand through her hair, stops himself from kissing her temple, tries to stop himself from loving her more than he’s ever loved himself.

“I didn’t want to take a break. But you deserved to not be t-tied down. I knew I would only hold you back.”

Jemma pushes off his chest, looking up at him with puffy eyes. “I made a mistake. I knew I’d made a mistake as soon as I suggested that.”

“No,” he reassures her. “You were right. We were so young, and we lived so far apart.”

“But none of that _mattered_ to me,” she insists. “I was so stupid, Fitz. I was in this doctoral program with people ten years older than me, and they all seemed so worldly. They kept talking to me like I was a child and saying high school relationships never worked and I was setting myself up for failure. They said you probably felt trapped anyway and wanted to _experiment_ and I... they just had so much more experience than I did. And you agreed that it was for the best, so I thought…” She trails off, shrugging her shoulders. “But it was a mistake. I never found anyone else that interesting.”

He laughs even as he tries to process everything she’s said. “That can’t be tr-true. You never found anyone at Harvard, St-Stanford, _or_ the NIH that interesting?”

“Not as interesting as you,” she admits, not meeting his eyes.

“What about all your boyfriends?” Fitz bites his lip, realizing too late he’s confessed to keeping much closer tabs on her dating life than he’d prefer.

“Well, there was Milton, whom I was actually going to break up with but then I stalked you online and saw you being all happy and chummy with Callie. So I ended up dating him for months and it was… forgettable. And then, I don’t know. Nothing else ever lasted.”

“Callie? You mean the girl I went out with for a week before she broke up with me because I talk-talked about you too much?”

Jemma laughs, covering her mouth with her hands as tears still stream down her face. “That part wasn’t evident from the online stalking.”

He laughs then, too, amazed at how bad they are at communicating. His heart stutters when he thinks of every wasted moment, every time they might have been happier than they were.

“I missed you so much,” Jemma says, when her laughter has subsided and transformed into sniffling half-sobs. “You were my best friend in the world and you just stopped responding.”

Fitz draws her back to him and marvels at how despite the years and the changes, she still fits against him like they were carved from the same piece of stone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, permitting himself a gentle kiss against her hairline. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“What do you think we should do about it?” she asks, and she won’t allow herself to completely look at him.

Fitz sighs. He wants everything all at once and he can feel that need burning him up. Instead, he presses another kiss to her temple. “For now… let’s just watch the meteor shower.”

Jemma nods against his chest and then pulls him down next to her on their blanket. They lay side-by-side, shoulders touching, his bad arm quivering at his side. Without looking at him, Jemma takes his shaking hand between her own and gently massages it.

It’s this tenderness that brings tears to his eyes. He realizes suddenly that after everything, he’s gotten his best friend back, and maybe that’s enough.

++

Jemma knocks on his door at six in the morning, and his first thought is they’re both lucky Hunter’s not home to throw a fit.

He opens the door in his monkey pajama pants and a threadbare t-shirt, slightly surprised to find her dressed up in business casual.

“Jemma, what—” but she pushes him back, closing the door behind her and staring at him for a few seconds, like she’s analyzing one of her lab specimens.

He’s just about to try again when she steps abruptly into his personal space, pulls his head down, and kisses him.

He freezes. He has no idea how long he stands there, not kissing Jemma back, but it feels like hours. And then somehow, somewhere, some part of him that hasn’t been shocked to death manages to respond.

It’s soft and tender and heated in a way only two souls finding each other again after too long apart could ever be.

“Um,” he says, when the need for air finally forces them reluctantly apart. “What?” He’s actually quite pleased with himself for being able to speak at all.

“I wanted more evidence. You’ve gotten quite good. I mean, you were always a good kisser, but it’s been nearly a decade, you never know how things can change. I’ll always have a soft spot for our _previous_ first kiss, but this might have been the best first kiss I’ve ever had. What do you think?” Jemma says this all in a rush as Fitz blinks sluggishly at her, overwhelmed by the taste of her still on his lips.

“Maybe? Could we try again? I ju-just woke up.” Fitz smiles tremulously at her and she laughs, she actually laughs.

“Of course,” she replies. “We’re proper scientists, after all.” And then she’s kissing him again and pushing him back towards his bedroom and Fitz thinks this is all a dream so he prays he never wakes up.

++

Jemma leans against his headboard, sheet tucked around her body, goosebumps dotting her bare arms.

“Mm,” Fitz mumbles, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You cold? I can t-turn the heat up.” Really, it will be a miracle if he can leave the bed.

“I have two things to confess,” she says in a stern voice and Fitz sits up slowly, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Jem-Jemma?” Ice water trickles through his lungs and he suddenly remembers what it feels like to drown.

“I didn’t just run into you at the cafe that day. I had asked your mum where you were working. I walked by every day for a week before I got the nerve to walk in.”

“Oh,” Fitz says, smiling and nudging her arm gently. “It’s okay, that’s only borderline creepy.”

She doesn’t return his smile and she doesn’t look at him. Her bottom lip quivers and she flexes her fingers against his sheets. “And I’ve been following Ward.”

“You’ve been… what?” This is so far from what he’d expected her to say that he doesn’t even know how to respond.

“Almost every day since I got here. I convinced Daisy to track him down for me. I was just so… so _angry_ that he could do that. He could speed and drive recklessly and run your car into a river and what? A fine and losing his license and some community service? That’s it? I kept thinking he ruined your life and he ruined _us_ and I started fantasizing about hurting him. Running him off the road or throwing some chemical in his face, or, or—”

Fitz realizes he’s gaping at her, but he’s never seen her like this before. She presses her hands against her eyes and chokes out a sob.

“I started seeing this counselor at work. And I realized I was mostly angry with myself. I mean, I still think he’s a horrible person, but he didn’t ruin your life. You’re still my best friend and the person I fell in love with so long ago. You’re just different now, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But I felt like I ruined everything and I _know_ you. I know you think you’re not good enough for me now. You used to think we were equals and now I’m afraid you’ll never really give us another chance.”

She finally pauses, sucking in a hiccuping breath.

“You’re wrong,” he says, when he realizes he needs to speak. “I never thought we were equals.”

She stares at him, tears overflowing and streaming down her face. She looks devastated. “But… but why?”

“Jemma,” he says gently, cupping her chin and forcing her to face him. “You were—and are—brilliant and beautiful and funny and compassionate. I thought I was the luckiest person in the world to be your best friend, but when we started dating, I never thought it would last.”

She burrows her face against his chest, her tears burning his skin. “Please don’t say that. You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with. I never want to be without you, and I know so much has happened, but I don’t want to go backwards. Not now. Please tell me what to do.”

Fitz sighs, drawing her closer to him. “Maybe we can start with not stalking W-Ward anymore?”

She manages to choke out a laugh. “I stopped. I promise.”

He nods and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Okay. Let’s promise to be honest with each other from now on.”

“I can do that,” she sighs, sliding her fingers through his and holding his hand to her chest. Her heartbeat pulses against his palm.

“I can’t think of anything else.”

She laughs. “Really? That’s all we have to do?”

He falls back down on the bed, pulling her until she’s resting half on top of him. “I’ve loved you for over half my life,” he says. “And right now we’re together and it’s co-cozy and I have leftover pastries for breakfast. I honestly can’t think of any way my life could be b-better right now.”

She leans over and presses a kiss to his mouth while her fingers draw atomic structures along his ribs unconsciously. “I love you,” she says. “And I know we’ve said it a thousand times before but I really think I love you more now than I’ve ever loved you. So we’re gonna get it right this time, won’t we?”

“We’ve always managed to fix things to-together,” Fitz replies. “I think we’re gonna be fine.” And as he says this, feeling her body melt into his, he realizes that he truly believes it.

++

Daisy and Trip are unbearable. Bobbi and Hunter are unbearable. Even _Mack_ is unbearable. There’s a constant stream of “I told you so,” references to wagers, perpetual chiding of Fitz for being so _dramatic_ when it was _obvious_ to everyone that he and Jemma just needed to—

“ _Guys_ ,” Fitz pleads, but Jemma has found a much more effective way of shutting them all up. It involves kissing Fitz in a way highly inappropriate for public spaces and ignoring the chorus of fake gagging in the background.

Jemma smiles up at Fitz and his whole world reduces down to her in his arms. _Happy_ is such an inadequate word for the way his soul feels both ecstatic and finally, fully at peace.

“They’ll never let it go,” she whispers, nuzzling the side of his face with her nose. “You know they’ve already started making bets on when we’re getting married.”

He laughs, contentment flowing through his veins like mulled wine. “I overheard my mum on the phone and I’m 99% sure she’s in-involved.”

Jemma runs a finger down his chest, playing with his tie. “We should find out what date she picked. I think she’s much more deserving of the money than this lot, don’t you?”

Fitz can’t believe he’s joking about a wedding date so casually with Jemma Simmons. But Jemma had insisted they couldn’t waste any more time, and he’d known anyway that there was no going back for him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jemma insists, tugging him down to her for another kiss. He leaves some cash on the table for their portion and hugs everyone goodbye.

Jemma sways in his arms as they walk home together. She stretches a hand out in wonder, grinning as the white snowflakes slowly melt into her glove.

This is the other thing they don’t tell you about adulthood—that sometimes, your heart is stronger in the broken places. That it’s possible to look back on the person you were with understanding and compassion. And sometimes, when you’re stretched out on a sofa with the love of your life in your arms, everything will fade away until it’s just her heart beating against yours, her lungs drawing your oxygen.

This is how Fitz wakes up on Christmas morning: with a sore neck, a numb arm, and a heart full to bursting.


End file.
